


'Oh, by the way, you're on the TV with a mace'

by Strawberry_lime



Series: Far from home, but not their hearts [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bad Flirting, F/M, FFH, Fluff, Humor, Jealous Peter Parker, Kinda, Michelle's funko pop! figure gave me this idea, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Violence, not much though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_lime/pseuds/Strawberry_lime
Summary: oh, so it did get filmedORMJ's on the news after the big fight against Mysterio, and, yeah, everyone's confusedBefore 'Cheese ain't romatic,' but after 'I promise'





	'Oh, by the way, you're on the TV with a mace'

**Author's Note:**

> I saw how Michelle's funko pop! figure had a mace thingie, and I couldn't stop thinking about something to write about.  
> kinda makes sense but not really so sorry

 

**-*-**

 

It didn’t even hurt anymore, like it ever had before. Well, obviously it had a little bit, but little is the right word because she barely felt it -  the shock was more effective, and it was still scurried beneath her tongue, daring her to spit out something dumb, something stupid that itself couldn’t be used as an excuse for. She was surprised all of them were still up – anyone would’ve thought an event that big would drain out all the energy of all the witnesses, but no.

They’re teenagers, and if they didn’t have enough energy, why would they even bother with school?

_Exactly_

It didn’t hurt, honestly, because if you had to pay for medical situations in this country, Happy would’ve spent probably his whole salary for the week because he even had her go under – for a scratch – and made her have, like, the different types of pain killers, so effective that her whole neck felt numb to the bone, literally: she could hear it cracking but couldn’t feel it.

Peter was just over-reacting, but she couldn’t say she didn’t like it – oddly, having a boy’s full attention was a nice feeling, so much that it numbed the numbness, beat her heart to the beat of a tango, a tango that she felt she was swinging her hips to, tapping her feet to, keeping her eyes open for because she was so tired, like, _so_ tired that the _‘so’_ drags longer than the London bridge she was on only hours before.

The London bridge where Peter gave her the necklace, a necklace that held so much meaning and love in her view he’d never know, because she’s got high standards when it comes to gifts, and this one kept that tango rhythm beating in her mind since the moment she put it on. That was moments after his departure.

And it fitted, round her neck.

_Perfectly_

So, she _may_ be wrong when she thinks he’s staring at the stitched up wound running up the side of her neck, because she’s still got the necklace on - won’t take it off except for showers, and only because she doesn’t want it rotting on her like the way her ears were at that moment: it was so loud, that it almost drowned out her imaginary tango music.

Almost.

 

They were all up, downstairs - up meaning awake and downstairs meaning they were giving the staff of the hotel a hard time down in the bar which they weren’t even allowed to be in, especially at ten at night. But teenagers were like this, and every adult there had learned a long time ago that they were them once, and that this was pay back from all the folks up in heaven.

Up, downstairs, and giving the staff a hard time.

_Sounds about right_

And the music really was destroying her hearing – like, how’d Flash even get that speaker? As far as she knew, fancy, posh and prim hotels which the Queen probably once stayed in didn’t have high-tech speakers stored in the closet, why would they? But what was also a bit confusing to her was why have they not thrown them out yet?

_Yeah - teenagers and late at night, got it, but still not really comprehending_

She looked back, back to the boy who was just the prince charming in this make shift party by not making a sound; but also becoming her dance partner in the tango dance by switching his gaze from whatever else to nothing else but her, absorbing her gaze because she could almost feel it draining away – or maybe that’s just because her eyelids were slowly dropping down: just because no one else was tired doesn’t mean she wasn’t.

Everything was perfect, what she’d originally wanted the whole get away to be: scratch that plankton dude and the whole of London almost being blown up and you’d have anyone’s dream holiday Europe on hold.

_I literally smashed someone’s glass head with a mace as well-_

‘You tired?’ His voice was like velvet over the crap music pounding her ears to a pulp.

Her lids opened back up: the stitched up cut implanted on his cheek was more like a stab to her, the freckles surrounding it like little flecks in her blurry vision, but also little reminders that not even plankton could take away his cuteness – his eyes were still there, weren’t they? Still there and swimming with every nice thing a guy could have about them.

It was nice to know that: she liked how her first proper, full-on, non-mistake crush was the nicest guy any girl could wish for – the abs were just a bonus, but _how_ she appreciated them, more than she appreciated her poker face that was right then keeping all the feels, all the emotions at bay behind an unbreakable wall not even Spider-man could break down.

She groaned, stretching out her arms and yawning simultaneously.

‘Yep,’ she looked at him, allowing a smile to bloom and not regretting it at all. She was allowed to, because, reminder, she was a human being. ‘Surprised you ain’t’

‘Oh, no, trust me, I’m close to an energy failure right now’

‘Hm,’ she leaned back in the soft seat, across from his not-tired-at-all-looking form; she kicked her feet up onto the coffee table between them, folding her arms in and hugging her fluffy blanket tighter. ‘Doesn’t look it’

‘Well, you don’t exactly see Spider-man sleeping on his five-hour job do you?’

‘No, but how would I know’

His eyes widened, and like before, she let herself grin on.

‘You not a fan?’

‘No I am, kinda, but not to the extreme that I stalk his every move’

‘But your observant’

‘Only when necessary’

‘So Spider-man ain’t necessary but Peter Parker and his club list _is_?’ he was grinning that toothy grin, and it was making her warmer inside, so much that the hot water bottle wasn’t needed anymore. Still, she kept it by her side: it helped ease the love for this boy that was a brewing pot in her interior – maybe that, or it just brewed it more.

_Probably the latter_

She pursed her lips, most likely to stop the smile threatening to take place because though human she wanted to remain one that had _some_ control, control over her feelings that were out of control.

‘How could you possibly remember that unless…’ his grin fell, and she couldn’t take it anymore- she let her grin go wild like the wildfire she was about to cause in his mind, ‘…your becoming observant about-’

She suddenly felt her self being hoisted up, up and into a bone-crushing hug.

‘MJ, have I ever told you that you’re the most awesome, badass girl out there!?’

Ned. Ned and his weird complements stopped her from, _sort_ of, getting into the dating conversation she’d wanted to have _all_ day since Peter had given her the necklace, the necklace that was digging into her skin, painful but not at all bothering, because he gave her it, and she loved it, _so_ much.

_So much_

‘No,’ she heaved out because, really, it was getting a bit difficult to breathe, ‘but you should more often’

‘Ned, for goodness sake, let her go!’ Betty, her friend and right then her saviour down from heaven with a face glowing in the adjacent fire place light. Ned let go, and she hit the couch again. She looked over at Peter, who looked as confused as fuck.

She almost gaped.

_Is it **that** unbelievable that I’m badass?_

She did gape at how the only sound then was the silent flickering of the fire place flames, and the occasional beeps of taxis driving their customers to all over London – Flash actually quit his crap DJ-ing shit!

‘Sorry about that, MJ’ Betty glared at Ned, who grinned at her, who said:

‘Oh, by the way, you’re on the TV with a mace’

_Oh_

She gulped, not as shocked as she would’ve been about how she could hear the gulp practically echo through the silent bar because,

_It did get filmed_

She didn’t want to, but she did and looked to see the horror evident all over Peter’s face, in contrast with the still painful looking wound that didn’t really stick out like a sore thumb anymore – he looked in literal pain, and she wanted to slap herself because that was probably because of her and her stupid plan to avenge his beautiful face.

She didn’t get to say anything further, though, because Flash appeared, out of nowhere, grabbed her by her damp curls, and dragged her out of the safety of Peter’s sight. She stumbled down the steps, Flash’s grip tightening ever so slightly but to her it felt as if he was slowly ripping her hair out chunk by chunk.

‘What the- Eugene, let the fuck go!’

She hated to admit it, but Flash wasn’t the weakest link in the sea: consistently clawing at his exposed arms didn’t slow him down. So she just gave up, crossing her arms angrily till he shoved her onto the plush sofa in the main seating place. There was no fire to glow upon her, no hot water bottle to snuggle with, and no fluffy blanket to do so in – Flash’s cold glare didn’t exactly warm her insides like Peter’s did, so she was basically just left shivering.

Speak of the devil, Peter came storming over, toughly shoving Flash to the floor, eyes acting like her fire place but as Flash’s death.

‘What the hell was that, Flash!?’

‘Yeah, Flash’

_Oh yey, the phony dude_

Brad walked down the steps, coke in hand and the creepy smile sickening her insides. Peter looked up at him, and the flame only grew.

‘That was a shitty thing to do’ Brad came over to the sofa, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear – tried to, because she’d had just about enough with the hair touching: she grabbed his hand, twisting it slightly; he let out a gasp, eyes screwed up in pain.

_I’m not even doing it that hard, wow_

‘Okay, no one is gonna touch my hair for the remainder of today, got it?’

‘What about tomorrow?’ She was surprised he even dared to say anything else: she was tightening her grip with every passing second, and Brad’s face was clear of any smile, of anything other than his stupid good looks.

‘Come on, man’ Peter yanked him back, looking pretty small in comparison but she knew who’d win the fight – they were eyeing each other up, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of satisfaction that Peter was doing that for her, and for her only, singularly, even though Brad and his broad shoulders had a few inches to look down from.

That’s when Flash got up, and she stifled a laugh at how weak he looked in the middle of the two – here, he was without a doubt the link with the disadvantage of a number of things. His head did look ready to pop off from the anger reddening his face, and it was then that she realized that Penis Parker just shoved him to the ground with all the efficiency Mo Farah had to win a race – she could only imagine what was going round and round in his head.

He took a deep breath, trying to look like the alpha but just looking like the runt because _oh my GOD those two are gonna strangle each other_

‘Brad, get out of the WAY’

No one budged. The staring intensified. Michelle felt nervousness overtake her blooming admiration.

‘Oh, my-’ He tried to get in between, tried to be the bully he was so bad at being, but he just looked stupid and eventually gave in to the fact that Brad was going to be the one that had Peter on the edge of the whole _great_ power has a _responsibility_ shit.

He looked to her, and she only hoped the fear in his eyes was because she was stabbing all the daggers into his chest that she could manage within one glare.

He sighed.

‘Just- MJ, look at the TV, that’s you ain’t it?’

She looked up, up to her figure, blurry, unclear, in the distance, on the TV with news headings blearing in deep red around her and a dolled up lady talking absolute nonsense about why Michelle was holding a mace – it was nonsense, because why would she have it for attention? That was utter shit, completely wrong, and she didn’t know why she was getting all worked up about it because she had Flash green with envy.

Well, it looked like envy, or it may be jealousy – either were both equally correct because each both had Flash wishing he’d been in her combat boots.

Peter and Brad stopped the staring contest, looked to the TV, right before a loud smash sounded: Brad dropped the glass bottle, letting it smash into too many shards to count, and Michelle wondered who in their right mind thought glass bottles would be a good idea.

‘It is you isn’t it’

‘No duh, Flash, who else has those boots?’

Peter whipped round to face her, and it wasn’t the guilt she should’ve felt coursing through her body, bringing the tango dance officially to rest – it was pride, because, come on, it was badass and she could see the admiration in the News lady’s eyes all the way from there. Sadly, that wasn’t what Peter’s eyes had to offer.

‘W-when did _that_ happen?!’

‘Ummm…’ she kept him hanging, just to try and see how much effect the discovery had on him -  bad idea, he actually looked ready to have a full on panic attack.

She fiddled with her necklace, and it was as if he was holding her hand it held so much love.

‘…it happened while I was walking past the arrest, and…’ she bit her lip in thought – how _did_ she get the mace?

It was such an exhilarating experience, hitting a fish bowl with a historical mace on the threshold of the London bridge, that she only really remembered the blow itself; she briefly remembered seeing on the cracked road, dodging past the many fires and smashed cars, a guy…

_Oh yeah_

‘-there was a guy, right, and he was…’

Brad turned to look at her, the creepy smile back and she had a really strong urge to go grab the same mace and smash his face in with it – it sort-of reminded her of that weird lizard thingie in Monsters Inc. and she remembered how she had horrifying nightmares of it crawling into her brain non-stop for a whole month; she’d snap his neck before he even got through the door, so it only made her angry. So angry, but she wasn’t gonna turn green like Flash and into the hulk so she carried on.

‘-he was running around with the mace thing, and that bowl face escaped-’

Peter coughed, and she couldn’t stifle the laugh when it sprayed all over Brad’s hands – he seemed too intrigued with himself and the story and her to notice.

‘Mysterio escaped!?’

‘Yeah, and the dude with the mace fell over then ran away, leaving it behind, so I just grabbed it and smashed it into the bowl’s head, and…yeah, apparently it got filmed, but I don’t really mind-’

‘I do!’ that was Flash and his envy coming in, and she just threw him back out by saying:

‘Nah, you’re just jealous that you didn’t get to do it, or maybe you’re jealous that you weren’t the one to film it so you didn’t get any more deranged followers’

Brad laughed, Flash scowled, Peter just kept his eyes on Michelle, unmoving but not emotionless – she could see as bright as the blaring TV screen that he was scared, which was stupid because what exactly was there to be scared about? That Mysterio dude was in S.H.I.E.L.D custody and from what she knew, they didn’t take arrests lightly – there most likely wasn’t a plot to kill him, or her, or Ned, or the whole team, so what was so important that he had to clench his fists like that for?

Ned and Betty chose that moment to walk in, and it was that moment that Ned thought to ask:

‘Did you really shout _“hey, plankton?”_  before you smashed his fish bowl?’ his grin was evident in his voice, but Peter’s state had her eyes on his.

‘…yeah’

‘Like the character from SpongeBob?’

‘Uh-huh’

 ‘That’s a really good nickname for him – I would’ve called him Nemo, but Plankton’s green so that’s more suitable-’

‘Ned shut-up’ Flash scowled, before storming out, Betty hot on his tail, screaming the most insulting things a goody-two-shoes could manage.

‘That has to be the coolest thing I’ve seen, MJ’ Brad’s voice was all sick and slurred, had her wanting to just scream in his face if he’d noticed that she didn’t really like him. He may be smart, but was dumb at anything other than calculus.

It only took the tone of Brad’s words and her uncomfortable demeanour to snap Peter’s gaze back to Brad’s, and it only took that for him to grab Michelle’s hand and drag her out into the luxurious hallway, floorboards so slick and clean she almost felt it through her slippers. She shut her eyes, the dim lights still like stabs to her brain.

‘MJ’

‘Hmmm?’

‘…I thought I told you to go straight back-’

She groaned – she should’ve seen this coming, the most cliché thing that happens in superhero movies.

_‘You got to get out of here!’_

_‘No, baby, no! I’m not leaving you!’_

_‘If anything happens to you, I’d never forgive myself-’_

_‘I don’t care what happens to me-’_

_‘But I do’_

_‘I don’t want to go; I love you too much!’_

_‘I love you to, but you have to go…’_

_BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH_

_all that shit_

‘Peter, I did go straight back, but I saw the bowl escape and it was right next to me-’

‘But that could’ve gone completely wrong-’

‘But it didn’t-’

‘But it could’ve’

She sighed, finally opening her eyes. She loved being tall: it gave her the satisfaction of looking down on others, making them feel like the small ones even if they were ten years older. But in front of Peter, who was only an inch or so smaller, she felt small, she felt like the one being looked down upon, and she suddenly regretted ever taking the satisfaction of doing so to others because it was not a good feeling.

‘Peter…I’m fine, okay? It’s Plankton you should be worried about’

This got a smile out of him, not the classic Peter grin that she loved, that warmed her insides just as much as a fire place would, but it still gave her that tingly sensation on her lips because Parker smiles were so contagious.

‘Did you really call him that?’

‘Right before I smashed his helmet, then dropped the thing on his-’

No matter how angry Peter was, how much worry that was still drowning his mind, he couldn’t _not_ laugh at that, even if he did sort-of understand how painful that must’ve been.

 

**-*-**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah the part about the guy running round with a mace sounded better in my head, so yea soz 'bout that
> 
> And btw Brad ain't made up, he's the love rival and I can't wait to see him get between these two, which sounds bad, but MJ really only has eyes for Peter and he apparently gets sooooo jealous - that's actually wat i can't wait 4
> 
>  
> 
> hope ya enjoyed this:)


End file.
